


Sounds Like a Song

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AOS Brotp Week, Gen, Past Lincoln/Daisy, S4 AU, Women of Shield, positive female friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9840815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: “Is there anyone with you?” they ask. She thinks of everyone underground, living and dead, all too far away for her to reach even if she wants to, and smiles sadly.“No,” she says. “Just me.”But it was never just her.-Daisy is pregnant at the end of S3 and that's why she runs away. Years later, she is reunited with her family again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by mocking-point, written for #aosbrotpweek on Tumblr, Day 2: Favourite Fanon Relationship, because in fanon all these ladies can be together (because reasons, right?)
> 
> title from "When We Were Young" by Adele

It’s not until after Lincoln is gone that she figures it out. At first she thinks the sickness and bloating and appetite changes must be grief, must be guilt, must be a result of the thousands of micro-emotions that pass through her every day. But it’s not. It’s more than emotions it’s – well, _something._ A person. A tiny little person.

It’s too much, is what it is, and Daisy has to run.

Is she trying to keep the child safe? Escape pity? Avoid memories? Even she’s not sure. She’s not sure of anything these days. Even sitting in the waiting room of the health clinic she’s not sure what she wants to ask for. She ends up with pregnancy health, counseling services, and birthing class. 

“Is there anyone with you?” they ask. She thinks of everyone underground, living and dead, all too far away for her to reach even if she wants to, and smiles sadly.

“No,” she says. “Just me.” 

She takes the pamphlets and leaves. 

But it was never just her. From that moment forward it is her and her child, and maybe it’s the tenuous nature of family in her life to date, or maybe it’s hormones, or maybe it’s both, but she walks out of the clinic like she’s never been more confident with a decision in her life. She is never going to let this child go, or let it get hurt, or let the cruel and nasty side of the world bare its teeth. Even if it is just the two of them, even if that’s the way it has to be, she’ll hold her head high. She’s ready. 

Her confidence, of course, wavers erratically from that moment forward. 

She bleeds one night and almost has a panic attack, and wishes for Coulson to tell her it’s all going to be okay, or Jemma to start spouting enthusiastic science babble to explain all the things it could be that are _not_ a miscarriage. One of them would have been right, and in the end everything is fine, but still, she wishes she could have heard them say it. 

Watching the blurry image on the ultrasound screen, and hearing her baby’s thrumming heartbeat, she remembers how she’d once brought Lincoln back to life. She feels the tears in her eyes and wonders if, somewhere, he can see this or feel it in the electricity that runs through the whole world. There’s still a piece of him here and she can’t believe it. She wonders what the baby will look like. The staff don’t ask about her tears. 

Lying in the bed with her feet in the stirrups, she screams and screams to vent the pain, because otherwise she’s going to bring the whole place quaking down around them. She wishes May were here to hold her hand, or Fitz, to be dramatic and queasy and make her feel like more of a badass and less of a mess. When it’s over and her limbs feel like they’re about to detach from her aching torso, and she holds her daughter in her arms at last, she asks one of the nurses to take a photo. Who is she going to show it to? She doesn’t really know, but it feels right. It satisfies the purring dragon within her that says, _look at this, it’s mine, I made it._

Over the years her daughter gets blonder and blonder, her hair rough and sun-bleached like her father’s. She’s an inventive kid with a rough-and-tumble streak, unfazed by the fact that Daisy can’t give her a luxurious life; she provides and tries to teach her right and so far, that’s been enough. She hasn’t displayed signs of a gift yet, of course, but Daisy keeps an eye out for signals of that infamous Inhuman emptiness. (Puberty, she jokes to no-one, is going to be a bitch). 

They’re at the park when Daisy spots a familiar face, in the distance, at a magazine stand across the road. She think she must be seeing things, at first, but the wind carries the woman’s voice over to her and it fills her whole body with longing and nostalgia. It can’t be her. It _can’t_ be. 

She’s sure that’s what Jemma’s thinking too, when her eyes lock on Daisy’s and can’t help but widen in shock. Jemma abandons the magazine and waves off the vendor, making a bee-line for Daisy so intent that she almost forgets to check for cars before she crosses the road. She walks straight up to Daisy and embraces her firmly, as if making up for three years worth of casual hugs. When she finally lets go, there are tears in both their eyes – and a curious little girl at their feet. 

The girl tugs at the hem of Daisy’s shirt until she looks away from Jemma. 

“Mummy, who’s that?” the girl asks, and from Jemma’s expression, she’s about to ask the same thing. 

“This is Aunty Jemma,” Daisy explains. “She’s an old friend of mine.” 

Jemma smiles. Three years feels like a lifetime. 

“There’s a whole lot more old friends waiting to see you,” she offers. “We’re on a stakeout but it can wait.” 

“Are you sure?” Daisy can’t stop the hope in her voice, springing forth like water from a well after all these years.

“Of course!” Jemma assures her. “But not here.” 

She beckons for Daisy to follow her, and Daisy hoists her daughter onto her hip and obeys, curious and excited and her heart swollen with love and excitement. Who’s available? What’s happened for all of them in the time that’s passed? What’s it going to be like, to see them again? 

“All units to my location,” Jemma says, into a tiny microphone. “Non-combat situation. Prepare for some…emotions.” 

She drags Daisy to a coffee shop across the road, where Daisy’s eyes instantly narrow in on May, reading a book in the corner booth. She has a cappuccino in front of her, but it sits untouched, and Daisy manages to sneak up on her almost close enough to grab it. 

“Mind if I have some?” she asks, and May looks up. She doesn’t flinch, barely blinks – and Daisy expects nothing less – but she gestures for Jemma and Daisy to take a seat, and the coffee, and her eyes fall to the face of the little girl in her arms.

“Is that my grandma?” the girl asks. “She looks like you.” 

Daisy shares a significant gaze with May. It’s obvious the child is Lincoln’s, and the realisation settles over May’s heart with bittersweet wings, but she smiles and offers her hand out to the child.

“You can call me Grandma if you like,” she offers. “My name is May.” 

The café doorbell tinkles, announcing new arrivals, and Daisy twists to see them. Her face lights up when she sees Elena, and she almost blurts out _you stayed?_ Except her tongue isn’t working, because of the face she sees next. Her heart almost stops working. She presses a hand to her chest, hardly able to believe what she’s seeing, except the firm sensation tells her this is real.

“Holy shit,” she murmurs. 

“Holy shit yourself,” Bobbi returns, and then, seeing Daisy’s daughter, covers her mouth. “Sorry!” 

Daisy snaps out of her shock. 

“Oh! Sorry sweetie.”

The girl frowns up at Bobbi, confused.

“Is she my Aunty too?” 

“Yes she most certainly is,” Daisy agrees, “and guess what? Her name is Bobbi too.” 

Bobbi slips into the seat next to May, gaping in wordless shock. 

“You named your _kid_ after me?” 

“I didn’t think I was going to see you again! And technically, she’s named after you and Trip. Barbara Ann.” 

Elena snorts. “Hunter’s going to love that.” 

“Hunter’s back? Is Mack still there? I mean, all of you are – and are you and Mack still a thing? And Fitz, what’s he- ?” Daisy twists in her seat, trying to see them all at once and take in all their news. Jemma flashes a sparkling ring at her and Daisy squeals with delight and gives her the best hug she can manage with a toddler jammed between them. 

“Ah. A-Ah.” Daisy stares at the table, gathering herself for a moment before she looks around at all their faces again. “This is amazing, you guys. I love you all so much. I really, really miss you.” 

“Come back with us!” Elena insists. “Mack is dying to see you. I’m sure the others are too. And there are more Inhumans there too, they’d love to meet you?” 

“I’m tempted, really, but I can’t…”

“Just for the day?” Jemma pleads. “Just to see everyone?” 

 _“Everyone?”_ Little Bobbi interrupts, her eyes wide. “There are _more_ Aunties?”

“Uncles, too,” May explains. “And Grandpa Phil. I bet he’d absolutely love to see you.” 

“I have a _grandpa?”_ Little Bobbi gasps. 

“Yes! Your mother’s family is quite large.” May meets Daisy’s eyes when she says it, and Daisy blushes. 

“Alright. We’ll come visit. But we’re not sleeping on base. And I’m not touching a gun. And nobody’s allowed to swear. Alright. Maybe a little swearing but no guns. And no getting excited about killer virus or robots. And-“ 

Jemma passes Daisy her phone. 

“Just write us a complete list and I’ll mail it out.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobbi meets her Uncles and Daisy has a chat with Grandpa Phil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter immediately follows Ch1. Bobbi Ann is ~3 years old.
> 
> I've decided to put all the Bobbi Ann stuff in this fic so if you like her/this verse, keep an eye out for more :D
> 
> *disclaimer* I did actually research the Spanish a bit but languages suck so I tricked myself but I finally got round to fixing it - sorry! Although 'me IIamo' actually means 'I am called' not 'my name is' but I thought the latter would be a better way of explaining it to a child.

Daisy feels almost as bouncy as her daughter as they all pack into the SUV for the ride back to base. Fortunately, she has Bobbi Ann sitting (or often, not-so-sitting) on her lap to keep her still. The others try not to make a show of not asking her about the missing years, and she appreciates the effort, even if it’s just a bad coat of paint. She likes that to some extent, they can pick up where they left off. She hasn’t had that kind of permanency in her life very much and she feels a lump in her throat when she lingers on the thought of it for too long. 

Fortunately, she has plenty to keep her occupied. 

Bobbi Ann tries to climb onto Elena’s lap, but when Daisy restrains her, settles for an attempt at booping her nose instead. 

“Who are you?” she asks. 

“My name is Elena,” Elena says, and smiles, and glances at Daisy. “I can be your Aunty too, if you want.” 

“Aunty Lena,” Bobbi Ann repeats (sort of). She prods Elena’s arm. “Why are you brown? Are you from Mexico?” 

Daisy grimaces, and mouths ‘sorry’, but Elena shrugs it off. 

“I’m from Colombia,” she explains, “which is a bit like Mexico, but it’s different.” 

“Do you speak Mexican there then?” 

“No,” Elena says. “We speak Spanish, which the same language as Mexico, but Mexican isn’t a language.” 

“Oh. Cool. Can you say something in Spanish now?”  
  
“Si.” 

Bobbi Ann stares, perplexed, and Elena laughs. 

“It means ‘yes’,” she explains. “You can also say ‘me IIamo Bobbi’. It means ‘my name is Bobbi.’” She points at herself. “Me IIamo Elena.” 

Bobbi, mimicking her, points to her own chest. “meh yah-mo Bobbi.”

“Very good! Now you can also say – ‘her name is Bobbi’. Ella es IIamada Bobbi.” 

Bobbi-Ann points at her namesake. “Ella es yah-mah-da Bobbi.” She points at Daisy, too. “Ella es IIamada Daisy?” 

“Bueno!” Elena beams, and then her expression turns smug. “And we even have another word for Daisy, too. Margarita.” 

“Are you serious?” Daisy’s eyebrows shoot upwards. 

“I told you, you should learn Spanish,” Elena teases. 

“What’s a Margarita?” Bobbi Ann wonders. 

“It’s an adult drink, sweetie,” Jemma explains, as if she’s sharing a secret. “You wouldn’t like it I don’t think.” She pulls a face like she’s just eaten a lemon, and Bobbi Ann giggles and mimics her. 

The impromptu amateur Spanish lessons continue until they reach the hangar, and Daisy can smell it and see it and it’s like she’s fallen back into a dream she once had. Her fingers linger on the handle as she stares out at the expanse of grey, dotted with cars and cargo and personnel, because to most of the people in this place it is a day like any other day. But not to all. There are a special few waiting for her, and all of a sudden the promise of seeing them again makes her heart ache. 

In the end, Bobbi Ann pushes the door open and climbs off her mother’s lap, and Daisy has no choice but to follow her and insist that she not wander too far. Elena and Jemma and Bobbi and May get out too, but they linger around the car for a while, and wait for Daisy to greet her welcome wagon. 

Fitz. Coulson. Mack. 

She can hardly breathe, can hardly believe they’re there in front of her. Tears rush to choke her up and she falls into Coulson’s arms first, and when she closes her eyes it’s like she’s the person she was before for a moment. Tougher in some ways, softer in others. Safer. Home. 

“It’s a pleasure to have you, Daisy,” Coulson says as they finally part. “However long you stay.” 

She nods and moves on, to where Fitz is standing, watching her with an expression so full of love and longing it’s almost painful to look at. It says _I can’t find the words to tell you how glad I am you’re here,_ and when he hugs her, she can finally breathe again. It’s a solid, grounded, welcoming hug that says all the things Fitz can’t seem to find the words for.

“Missed you,” he manages at last, with tears on his face. 

“Missed you too,” she replies, and she must be crying too by the time she turns to Mack. By now, Bobbi Ann has apparently made quite a comfortable home in his gigantic arms. They’re so different in size it’s almost comical. 

“Welcome back, Tremors,” Mack greets with a smile. “I know you’re not _back_ back, but it’s good enough for me.” 

“It’s good to see you,” she assures him, and offers a fist-bump, which he meets with his free hand. “Where’s Hunter?” 

“He drew the short straw. Errand run for the kid.” Mack’s soft smile says that he thought Hunter had volunteered himself. The gratitude of her near-weeping greeting party tells Daisy a similar story. 

“What a softie,” she croons. “I hope he gets pop tarts.” 

“I hope he manages to stop himself buying out an entire store,” Mack remarks, rolling his eyes at his friend’s good-natured but at times bizarre antics. “Now, this little critter tells me she belongs to you?” 

“Bobbi Ann. And, yeah. She’s Lincoln’s.” 

“Oh.” 

Bobbi’s tapping Mack’s arm now, so he lets her down to the ground and she runs to meet her other new family members under the guidance of her swarm of aunts. They leave Mack and Daisy behind for a moment, and he watches her face fall a little. 

“Hey, good on you,” he says. “It’s tough, trying to go it alone. Unless –“ 

“Nope.” Daisy sighs. “Still alone. Just me and her.” 

“She loves you a lot.” 

Daisy smiles softly, as Bobbi Ann looks back through the crowd as if to check on her. 

“Yeah, she does.” 

-

“So,” Daisy says, smiling as she scans the familiar contents of Coulson’s office. “How’s Grandpa Phil?” 

“Getting old,” he says with a laugh. His shirtsleeves are rolled up and his collar askew from where he’s been sitting on the floor playing with Bobbi-Ann. She’s just disappeared with Aunty Jemma to go play with Uncle Fitz in the lab, and finally Daisy gets a chance to speak with Coulson alone. 

“You did good with this kid, Daisy. She’s a promising little one. Bobbi Ann. For Antoine, right? What a name. Though I’m sure she’ll live up to it.” 

“Yeah, alright, Mamma Hen,” Daisy cajoles. “In fairness, you’re kinda the one who taught me how to parent best so…some of the credit has to go to you, actually.” 

Coulson shakes his head. 

“You’re her mother,” he says, as though he still can’t quite believe it. “You’re her whole world.” 

And maybe it’s because he’s already so far gone, so far in love with the role he’s adopted as everyone’s resident dad, but Daisy feels a pull she hasn’t got in three years. She takes out her phone and turns to that old photo, where her flushed and sweaty three-years-younger self is holding a tiny infant. 

_Look at this, it’s mine, I made it._

“I’ll print you a copy, if you like,” she offers, and Coulson wordlessly takes the phone and finds a seat, staring in awe. In his eyes, Daisy suddenly sees every family he’s ever missed out on. Every child he never got to have. Every paternal instinct he’s bestowed upon her, extends to this child as if they are blood, even stronger than that. 

“I’m proud of you, Daisy,” he says. 

In all honesty, she has to go have a bit of a cry after that. So many feelings are piling up on her that she retreats to the plane, for want of a better place – for a place that’s hers – and lets some of the weight of them fall off her shoulders. When she’s ready, she heads to the lab and, just as she’d expected, it puts the smile back on her face. 

Bobbi Ann is making her way between tables, her concentration intense, but torn between the controller in her hand and the model of Lola hovering in front of her. As she scampers up to Daisy, mini-Lola almost flies into a wall, but she weaves around her mother and scampers down the hall enthusiastically. 

“Don’t get lost!” Daisy calls, twisting so that her gaze follows her daughter until she’s out of sight. 

“She won’t, I gave her a watch,” Fitz explains. “Like Elena’s. Told her how it works and everything. Don’t worry, it’s one of the prototypes, before all the booby traps and what have you.” 

He paused for a moment and leans back to check the bench-top.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “It’s a prototype. Definitely.” 

Fitz blows air out of his cheeks and puts his hands on the small of his back. The image is only augmented by the screamingly eccentric three-layered glasses that sit atop his head, for seeing detail – or in this case, for furthering the amusement of a small child. Daisy laughs. 

“You know, I had Hunter pegged for the crazy hermit uncle but nope, it’s you.” She doesn’t know why she’d ever expected anything different, to be honest. 

“I’d be honoured to share the title,” Fitz says, taking off the glasses and running a hand through his hair. He sighs and takes a seat, as if Bobbi Ann’s knocked the wind out of him. “That child is remarkable.” 

Daisy feels her chest physically inflate, and remembers what she’d called Coulson earlier. _Mother hen._ She’s more of a mother lion, most of the time, but then, people don’t often approach her with such ego-inflating praise. 

“Speaking of remarkable,” she says, after a few seconds of silent gloating, “Jemma showed me a pretty remarkable rock earlier today.” 

Fitz shrugs modestly. “It’s not that big.”

“I didn’t say big, I said, _holy shit my best friends are engaged.”_ She bats his shoulder. “You popped the question?” 

Fitz grins like he’s thinking of a memory as well as of her. 

“Yeah. Although, Jemma hinted pretty strongly first. I think she thought I’d be better at it, I just needed a bit of a kick in the pants to actually get on with it.” 

“And was she right?” 

“Of course.” He grins even wider now, because in acknowledging Jemma’s correctness about him being better at something, he’s also calling himself the same. “Roses, chocolates, the whole kit and caboodle. Under the stars, of course.” 

And then he snaps out of the memory, and all of his attention is on Daisy.

“Please come,” he says, his tone urgent all of a sudden. “We haven’t set a date yet, but we really want you there. _Please_ come.”

She thinks of life and normalcy and super powers and living underground, and of setting foot on the Bus with a cardboard box full of everything she owned in the world, and she smiles. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she assures him. 

A crashing sound outside the door alerts them to another presence – a presence soon identified by the voice that follows. 

“Alright, I’m back!” 

Daisy and Fitz share a glance. _Hunter._

“Where is the mini-Johnson? Where is that little lightning bug?” 

He sees Daisy through the glass of the lab doors, his head and – along with it – his attention turning like a distracted dog. He bursts into the lab, beaming, and a shopping bag swings from each arm as he embraces her tightly so tightly she yelps in surprise. 

“I got pop tarts,” he says. “And popcorn. And a little birdie tells me you’re a Red Vines girl, but I got Twizzlers too, just in case.” 

“Did you get any _actual_ food?” Daisy wonders. 

“Why? Do you care?” 

Daisy laughs as Hunter checks the bags as if he can’t remember if indeed he did buy anything that Jemma wouldn’t pull a face at. 

“Oh! There’s eggs in that one. And spinach. See?” 

They’re barely visible under a heap of Little Debbie snack cakes and Daisy rolls her eyes, but feels her heart warm. 

“I’ll take it,” she says, and takes the bag from him too, and the three of them head for the kitchen. Bobbi Ann appears, with Lola tucked under her arm, and runs up to Daisy enthusiastically. Daisy lifts her, kisses her on the nose and places her on the counter. 

“We’ve summoned her,” Hunter whispers to Fitz dramatically as Bobbi investigates the bags, and finds the Little Debbie. “The Johnson family in their natural habitat.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy contemplates the meaning of home, and Bobbi-Ann has a nightmare. (also ft. Gma May & Gpa Phil)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an angel-child Bobbi is. Does it have something to do with her Inhumanity? Who knows.
> 
> This chap closely follows 1 & 2 in terms of time.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Coulson insisted. “Shield can pay! It’s not a problem, Daisy. I promise.” 

Daisy looked around at all the pleading faces and landed on her daughter’s. 

“I want to stay,” Bobbi-Ann stated. With a firm pout and tightly crossed arms, her mind was clearly made up, and from the group that had gathered closer and closer in around her, throwing in suggestions for how Daisy could wrangle it even with her restrictions, there was a small army of people – of _family_ – on Bobbi’s side. It was a little frightening, if Daisy was being honest, having them all gang up like that, but it also made her feel profoundly safe somehow, in a way she had been lacking for years. 

Turning her attention to Coulson with an exaggerated sigh, she declared: 

“Fine! The Queen has spoken apparently.” 

Coulson nodded resolutely and took out his phone to make the booking, warning Daisy – 

“But no room service.” 

Daisy rolled her eyes, and smiled. Coulson walked away to arrange hotel rooms near the base, since Daisy had been resolute about not staying here, and Daisy turned her attention back to the team gathering. 

“You’d think having like, ten parents would be stricter on a girl,” Daisy lamented. 

“I had enough of a time parenting you three,” May remarked, gesturing from Daisy to where Fitz and Simmons were talking animatedly to Bobbi. “I haven’t really tried with an actual child before.” 

Daisy started. She’d heard the story of Bahrain; stories about how it had changed May; even the hint of what it had changed about her view of her life. About her want for a family. Perhaps, had things gone differently, May might have had a daughter of her own. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” May insisted. “See, this is why I never told anyone. But you – you’ve got to look after yourself. I told you, I lived in a box. Don’t make my mistakes. Bobbi needs you.” 

Daisy crossed her arms, feeling defensive but unable to deny how close May had come to the truth of the situation. Of course, of _course_ Bobbi-Ann needed her, and needed her to be at the top of her game as much as possible, but Daisy didn’t often like to acknowledge to herself the lengths she would go to keep them independent. Ties had caused pain as much as love and it hurt to try and reach out again, and she was more hesitant, more defensive than she would admit even though it was all she really wanted, at the same time, to be back. As usual, she was straddling two worlds, two lives. She felt safe and pleasant enough, but how long would it last this time? Dare she make an effort if it was all going to collapse in on her again? 

 _Don’t make my mistakes._

Daisy sighed. 

“Y’know, sometimes I hate how well you do that,” she remarked. May smirked, satisfied, and strolled off now that her mission was accomplished. Daisy chased after Bobbi-Ann and Fitz and Simmons, eager to catch up with them, and maybe to reach out after all. 

-

“Can we stay with my aunties and uncles forever?” Bobbi-Ann asked that night as Daisy tucked her into the hotel bed. It was late, and Bobbi’s eyelids were drooping, but she had a towel that someone had balloon-animalled into a rabbit shape for company and seemed satisfied enough with that. Daisy kissed her forehead.

“Forever’s a very long time,” Daisy explained.

“I know, but I love them. I want to stay here forever.” 

“They love you too, honey,” Daisy assured her. “But we don’t live here.”

“Why not?” 

“Well, it’s a hotel. It’s where people go to stay for a short time.” 

“Can we go where Aunty Jemma and Uncle Fitz live?” 

“No!” Daisy laughed gently. “That’s _their_ house. They already live there. It would be silly for all of us to live there.” 

“But lots of people live where they live! In slats. We could live in a slat too.” 

“You mean a flat?” Daisy checked. “What about our apartment, where we live? Don’t you miss that one?” 

Bobbi shook her head. “I like this one. I want to live here forever.” 

Daisy smiled. Her child had a keen logic and problem solving skills, but not a strong ability to find her own limits and know when she was fighting a losing battle against her own capacity. Just like – well, a lot of people in Daisy’s former line of business, to be honest. 

“We’ll have to talk about that another day, okay?” Daisy crooned. “Mummy’s going to bed now, and little Bobbi should too.”

“Goodnight, Mom,” Bobbi said. 

“Goodnight, sweetie. Sleep tight. Remember, I’ll be right here if you need me.” 

She kissed Bobbi-Ann again and moved across to the other single, a few feet away. It wasn’t that spectacular of a hotel room. It wasn’t appalling, of course, but very simplistic and with the all-important hideous bedspreads. It felt disturbingly familiar, in that it felt too much like that little apartment – like the place she was supposed to call ‘home.’ But not the place she felt it. 

Daisy felt home where Bobbi-Ann did. With the ‘aunts and uncles’ that made up her team. Her family. The place and the people that had always tried to protect her, in one way or another. They were her home, hotel room or no. It felt strange to contemplate staying with them, even now, but the more Daisy thought about it, the more she thought… maybe. 

-

Bobbi-Ann woke with a start. She was biting her towel-rabbit, quite ferociously, although she couldn’t remember why. A dream, a bad dream. She was being chased. Running. Swimming? A shark, maybe?

“Mom?”

Her voice came out a whimper, tiny in the dark. It shook like her whole body shook. It was all quite overwhelming and she felt herself crying, and she wouldn’t be able to explain it all out loud. She felt a bit like screaming, too, but that wouldn’t do much good since she was already awake. If she could get a hug, get some reassurance and protection – get Mom. Get Mom. 

She was scared to use her voice, like maybe whatever it was that had been chasing her would be able to hear, but her Mom could protect her. Mom always made things better and made the nightmares go away. She had her own nightmares sometimes, she said, and that’s how she knew how to fight them. 

“Mom?” 

Her voice was still barely audible, so Bobbi-Ann sat up. She was in a room, not her room but a bedroom. Not school or the ocean or wherever they had been chasing her. And Mom, who was usually moving around and talking in her sleep, was still and relaxed, like how sleeping people were supposed to be. Maybe, tonight, she wasn’t having a nightmare. Maybe Bobbi herself had even had her Mum’s nightmare instead. Either way, Bobbi didn’t want to wake her up. The bad dream was finished now anyway, and she could get her hug from somewhere else – like Grandma and Grandpa, who were living (or not-living, apparently, since this was a ‘hotel’) down the hall. 

Clinging to the towel-rabbit Uncle Hunter had given her, Bobbi-Ann carefully and quietly opened the door and padded down the hall to where Grandma and Grandpa had told her they were sleeping. She tried to open it, but it was locked of course, so she had to knock instead. After another turn, and a bit of a wait, and just as she felt the creepy chasing feeling start to come back and make her nervous again, the door opened. Grandma May was wearing a dressing gown robe and didn’t look that bothered at being woken up. She almost looked happy, like she thought it was funny, but when she saw that Bobbi was upset she looked serious again. 

“I had a bad dream,” Bobbi explained, “but Mommy’s asleep.” 

Grandma May invited her inside and led the way to the bedroom, where she announced that they had a “guest.” Grandpa Phil – who looked a lot older without his suit on, in a white T-shirt and grey shorts – smiled at her from where he was sitting on the side of the bed, and waved Bobbi-Ann over with a smile. Bobbi gaped and pointed.

“Grandpa!” she cried. “You don’t have a hand!” 

“Yes, that’s right,” Grandma May said, steering Bobbi-Ann toward the bed. “And I’m sure he’ll tell you lots of stories about why he doesn’t have a hand in the morning, but for now it’s time for little Bobbi Ann Johnsons to be asleep like their mother. Hm?” 

Bobbi-Ann pouted. She was looking forward to the hand stories, but she really was tired. 

“Can I at least have a hug?” she asked. “Mom gives me a hug when I have nightmares.”

“I think that’s a very reasonable idea, don’t you Grandma May?” Grandpa Phil smiled, like he was telling a joke. Grandma May rolled her eyes, which seemed to mean that she thought it was funny, and hugged Bobbi-Ann before lifting her onto the bed. Grandpa Phil hugged Bobbi too, and as they finished preparing for bed, gestured to where his high-tech prosthetic sat on the dresser across the room. 

“Your Uncle Fitz built me a very special, clever hand,” he said, “because my real one got chopped off with an axe! It was very dramatic and heroic.”  
  
“Phil!” Grandma May scolded. “Don’t give the girl more nightmares.” 

She turned off the light and they all settled in, and Bobbi wondered what could be dramatic and heroic about getting your hand chopped off, but she didn’t really think about the chopping so much, so nightmares weren’t really a problem anymore. She was with her family – her dramatic and heroic family – and that was all that mattered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy wakes to find her daughter gone... but fortunately, in safe hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sharing the love for this verse everyone! You're welcome to make requests here or on Tumblr (@theclaravoyant)

Daisy awoke the next morning with a tumble of thoughts in her head. Some were pleasant, some not so much, as if all the reasons to join and to not join Shield again had filtered through to the top of her mind overnight. Despite the uncertainty, though, she felt rested, and she wondered if that was because her decision had been made. 

May had always said sleep did wonders, and regrets were trickster devil voices. Two separate sayings, and not expressed in so many words, but Daisy thought they worked well together in this context. She had fallen asleep, peaceful and well, contemplating the thought of coming back to Shield. Every decision she’d ever made, or ever would make, had consequences – there was always uncertainty, always the question of _what if –_ but that didn’t mean she had made the wrong decision. Perhaps, without quite realising it, she had welcomed Shield back into her life. Perhaps, when she looked Bobbi-Ann in the face this morning, she might actually be able to tell her that they would get to stay with her aunties and uncles, and the people who loved her. 

She rolled over in warm contentment, and then the world turned to ice. 

Bobbi was gone. 

Her heart constricted so fiercely that for a second, it felt like she couldn’t breathe. She calmed herself down a few notches by reminding herself that Bobbi could be in the bathroom, or around the corner, or that Daisy’s own panic could be blinding her to clues, but the longer she looked and found nothing, the higher up the panic ladder she climbed. The panic was high in her chest, and tight. It was not the bone-shattering panic that caused her to quake; she’d trained herself out of that long ago, and she was glad of it now, but not so glad as to distract her from the piercing sensation in her chest. Was she having a heart attack? Probably not. Not literally, right? 

Daisy ran. She had been training, preparing for this moment for so long. She’d never quite settled down, never quite got comfortable, always had one eye, or one foot, on the door. And after all her worry coming back to Shield, and all her comfort, here it was. Her worst nightmare come true – but fortunately, come true when the people most able to help her in the world were staying just down the hall. 

“May,” Daisy gasped, briefly embarrassed by the strangled tone of her voice, and what May, who had put so long into training Daisy to keep calm and strong in disaster, might think. “May! Open up!” 

And the door did open, but it wasn’t May who pulled it. It was Bobbi-Ann, in a hotel robe that was too big for her, with her hair half smooth and half-frazzled; halfway through being brushed. The ice in Daisy’s veins crackled like dry ice. 

 _“BOBBI ANN JOHNSON,”_ she gasped it, rasping a layer of sound over her breath, worry and fury quivering in her voice. One hand clenched the doorframe, and she didn’t dare move, for fear that the quaking would start. Mad and confused as she was, she would never endanger Bobbi, or make her feel truly threatened. Not for one second. 

Still, she was grateful when Coulson appeared in the foyer a moment later, and herded Bobbi-Ann back into the living-room area of his hotel room with May. He invited Daisy in only once the room was clear, and once she felt she could breathe again, knowing where Bobbi had gone and who she had been with, Daisy followed. 

“Don’t be mad at her,” Coulson pleaded. “She had a bad dream and came to us because she said _you were finally sleeping right._ She was trying to do right by you, Daisy. I understand you’re worried, but please, don’t penalise her for that.” 

Daisy nodded, breathing it out and feeling the fear and the fury leave her. 

“I know,” she said. “I’m not mad.” 

And so Coulson led her into the lounge room area, which was really more of a carpeted space with a lino-floor kitchen in the corner and a table with a few chairs around it. There was a couch wedged in the corner of the carpeted area, on which May sat, with Bobbi-Ann kneeling in front of her, having her hair brushed. Daisy felt a pang of some sort of nostalgia in her chest, and she sighed out the last of her anger. 

“Hey, Bobbi, sweetheart,” she crooned, kneeling down as Bobbi-Ann left May’s brush to come over to her. Gently, even more gently than usual to make up for her sharpness earlier, Daisy embraced her. “I’m sorry I was mad before. Sometimes, when Mommies get really scared that something’s happened to their little girls, they get a little bit angry. Remember how I always, always told you to leave a note or tell me where you are? That’s so I don’t think anything bad’s happened to you. When you didn’t leave a note I got scared.” 

Bobbi frowned.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” she said. “I didn’t want to scare you I just had a bad dream. I forgot we always said to leave a note.” 

Daisy eased her back, holding her by the shoulder gently. There were tears in Bobbi’s eyes. 

“Aw, sweetie. You were scared too, huh?” 

Bobbi nodded, pouting a little, but she didn’t cry. 

“It’s okay, Mommy,” she explained. “Grandma and Grandpa made it better. They gave me a hug just like you did and then we went to bed and now it’s better. And Grandpa’s making pancakes.” 

“Oh, pancakes?” Daisy hummed, intrigued and invited by the thought. “Well, pancakes get rid of lots of bad dreams, did you know that? Especially if they’re made with a special ingredient.” 

“Mooooooom,” Bobbi moaned. “Is the special ingredient love?” 

Coulson gasped theatrically.

“How did she know?” 

May snorted, and Bobbi pouted, and grumbled, 

“Why isn’t it ever chocolate sauce?” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunty Jemma doesn't feel like she's connecting with Bobbi-Ann, but the two of them have more in common than they think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sharing the love for this verse everyone! You're welcome to make requests here or on Tumblr (@theclaravoyant)

Jemma glowered over her cup of tea, past the counter, to where Bobbi-Ann was mimicking her older counterpart’s baton movements with two sticks of dowel. It was a clumsy imitation, just mucking about, but she had no doubt Bobbi-Ann could pick up good form if she tried. That girl could be anything she wanted to be – but unfortunately for Jemma, what she apparently wanted to be was _not with Jemma._

“Do I repel children?” Jemma wondered cynically, her eyes still fixed on the Bobbis as she pondered her situation. Daisy, who had been making breakfast around her without fuss, paused to follow her line of sight. 

“You don’t ‘repel’ anyone,” Daisy told her. “You just can’t teach her how to hit stuff. May’s right. Combat skills really are the way to a girl’s heart.”

Jemma frowned. 

“Fitz didn’t have to teach her to hit stuff.” 

“Fitz can make her toys that fly with his bare hands. He’s basically magic.” 

“I can be fun too, though!” Jemma insisted, and Daisy snorted with laughter, remembering her first day, arguing with a room full of super genius super spies. As it turned out she could keep up with the best of them and every day now she was feeling less and less regret about her decision to stay. 

“Don’t worry, Jem,” Daisy assured her. “Bobbi loves you. She just hasn’t found your Thing yet. It’ll happen.” 

But of course, Jemma never had been one for standing by and waiting for things to happen. If Bobbi-Ann was waiting to find something interesting, the perfect interesting thing about her, then it stood to reason that she could speed this process along by presenting as many interesting things about herself as possible. Sooner or later, one of them had to catch Bobbi’s eye. 

(Daisy should have seen it coming, she thought, reflecting later. She should have seen it coming and set up some video cameras. Bless Jemma’s cotton socks, but impressing a kid who’s mum had superpowers was a harder ask than she’d expected). 

Baking was fun, and Jemma was good at it, but she was too much of a perfectionist for Bobbi’s liking. Once Daisy and Hunter got in on it, and turned it into the fun mess-making romp it should be – then was when Bobbi-Ann started having fun. 

Blanket-forts were great, but Bobbi had grown up in lots of new places in new cities in storms and snow, and with a mother who was determined to make a sanctuary everywhere they went. Of course blanket-forts had been done before.

She got a brief win out of knowing _The Elements Song_ off by heart and racing Bobbi-Ann in trying to sing it, and they both burst out laughing. That was good. But it wasn’t a Thing. 

It did, however, give her an idea for a thing. 

She needed something new, something original, something unique, and so she fell back on her trusty go-to point of interest: _dead things._ Children, Jemma knew, often tended toward a fascination with morbidity. Not dead things necessarily, but things that were so gross or gruesome they were funny. Of these, she had buckets. Slime recipes she knew off by heart. A real human skull with coral growing in it like little jewels. A piece of flesh that could turn into any substance that touched it.

…And that had made Bobbi-Ann turn much the same colour as Fitz had when he thought he’d eaten that blasted cat liver. She’d run from the room, convinced she was going to throw up, and left Jemma in her most mad-scientist looking outfit, crestfallen. 

After that incident, Jemma backed off. She didn’t like to call it giving up, but that’s what it was, really. She would have to resign herself to being Bobbi’s Thing-less Aunt, fun and loving, just not particularly memorable. She could live with that, she supposed. Most of the hurt she was feeling was probably from the challenge she’d set herself, and failed, stumbling over every hurdle. She’d almost made that last one. 

“Hey, frowny face,” Daisy cajoled her. “Me and Bobbi-Ann are getting icecream in the park. Wanna come?” 

Jemma perked up a little at that. She might not have made Favourite Aunt status yet, but she had a few good stories to tell, and at the very least could still make Bobbi-Ann smile. Plus, it was a nice day, and she couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with her best friend in the world, reunited after all this time. It would be a good day, especially if she could leave her competitiveness behind. 

It was a good day indeed, she reflected later, and not least because the great cosmic joke that was her life had, for once, decided to play out in her favour. As the old wisdom goes, it was when she had stopped looking for success, that she found it. It was not often Jemma held that philosophy to be true, but as always, there were exceptions to the rule. 

This particular exception occurred when Daisy skipped off to investigate a potential balloon-animal sighting, leaving Jemma and Bobbi-Ann sitting on the bench, licking their icecreams side by side. For a while they were silent, not quite sure what to say to the other. Sometimes they pulled faces, making amusingly desperate attempts to keep the icecream from dripping as it melted, and then it escalated into pure pantomime, until they burst out laughing.

“You’re funny,” Bobbi praised, screwing up her nose with amusement, just like her mother did. Jemma was almost taken aback. ‘Funny’ was not really at the top of her list of words she’d use to describe herself. Nowhere near the top. In fact, she’d been explicitly told the opposite. Numerous times. 

“Really?” she wondered aloud. 

“Yeah,” Bobbi-Ann informed her, casually licking her icecream and kicking her legs. “Mum says you’re smart too. I don’t think it was very smart to show a little kid metal that bleeds, but you do have a lab coat, so you probably are.” 

Jemma almost laughed. 

“I have a lab coat?” she repeated. “That means I’m smart?”

“Well, yeah.” 

It was a simple, and if Jemma was being picky – which she always was – flawed logic, but she hadn’t heard Bobbi reason something out so scientifically before. Perhaps she had been aiming the wrong way with her uniqueness, and rather than trying to be original and fun like _The Elements Song_ she should have latched onto the _elements_ part. 

“Do you like science, Bobbi?” 

“Some of it. There’s lots, so it’s hard to pick. Bleeding stuff’s gross, but I like volcanoes and dinosaurs and space and birds. I think birds are my favourite at the moment.” 

“I like birds too,” Jemma agreed, and then she had an idea, and nudged Bobbi-Ann playfully. “You know, I bet I could name every bird in this park.” 

Bobbi’s eyes widened.

“Really?” 

Jemma grinned, smug. 

“Try me.” 

When Daisy got back to the bench where she had left them, it was empty. She twisted the pamphlet the balloon guy had given her, looking around and trying to remind herself that nothing was wrong, Jemma wouldn’t have let anything happen, and everyone else around would have noticed… And then she spotted them, across the way, the dripping remnants of their icecreams forgotten in their hands as Bobbi ran from bird to bird, pointing, and Jemma answered, sometimes with a few words, and sometimes with paragraphs, gesturing and explaining to Bobbi’s rapt expression. 

A few moments later, Jemma spied Daisy, waiting, and waved at her. Bobbi-Ann took her aunt’s hand and led her back to her mother, bouncing enthusiastically. 

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” she cried. “You’ll never guess what Aunty Jemma can do.” 

Of course, Daisy could make a pretty good guess, but as they all walked together toward the carousel, both she and Jemma were happy to hear Bobbi-Ann’s retelling. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobbi-Ann interrupts Grandma May's morning tai chi, and the whole little family gets something out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sharing the love for this verse everyone! You're welcome to make requests here or on Tumblr (@theclaravoyant)

Of course, it was only a matter of time before Daisy and Bobbi Ann ended up sleeping on base. A long, late night of video games and drinking on Daisy’s part, and falling asleep on top of Elena on Bobbi Ann’s, made the short trip fifty feet down the hall an infinitely more appealing option than the longer, rainier trek back to their apartment. Bobbi Ann had no trouble sleeping in the unfamiliar place, with familiar people all around her, but she did awake early in the morning – and when she did, it was with a nagging, insatiable desire to explore.

Bobbi Ann wrote her mother a note and left it on her pillow, as they had promised to do, then she picked up the cup of water, now empty, that she kept by her bedside at night, and took it to the kitchen. Only she couldn’t quite remember where the kitchen was. The base was dark and quiet and everything looked different at night. 

But Bobbi Ann was not afraid. 

She knew that behind each one of these doors was somebody that would help her if she wanted them to. She knew her mother would come looking for her, if she got lost. She felt like a big girl, and kept her chin up, even if a few noises and movements in the old base made her jump or tighten her grip on the cup. 

Most of the sounds were machines whirring or pipes clunking, or on occasion, somebody working the nightshift. One sound stood out from these, though. A chime, Bobbi remembered it was called, and wondered where it was coming from. Another chime rang out, soft, and vibrating through the air. Inviting her. 

She followed the sound into a big, open room. It was not a kitchen or lounge. There were mats on the floor and weights in the corner and a table shoved against the back wall with a collection of water bottles and towels on it. Around the corner, there were lockers. It was a gym - and it was empty, except for Grandma May, who stood on one of the mats, with her eyes closed, slowly sweeping her hands through the air as if imagining it was water. 

Bobbi Ann scampered up to her and found, on the table near her, the tiny cymbals she must have been using. Bobbi knocked them together and received a sharp clang. May twitched. Bobbi scowled and pressed the cymbals together again. It wasn’t even a loud or awful sound, just a sort of _clack, clack._ Maybe these weren’t the source of the chime after all.

“Good morning,” Grandma May greeted, and Bobbi Ann turned. May had stopped her hand waving and Bobbi felt she had interrupted. No doubt she wasn’t supposed to touch the cymbals.

“Sorry,” she said, holding them out to May. 

“You know,” May explained, taking them one at a time and letting the leather cord between them spiral and bend. “You don’t bang them together like orchestra cymbals. You have to be very gentle.” 

“I _was_ gentle,” Bobbi Ann insisted. “They just don’t make any noise.”

“Yes, they do,” May said. “But you've got to use them like this.” 

She draped the leather cord over one finger so that the cymbals hung next to each other, like bells, and knocked them so that one knocked into the other, like windchimes more so than cymbals. The chiming sound rang out, just like the one Bobbi Ann had heard, and Bobbi’s expression shifted immediately. Her eyes lit up, and a beam spread across her face.

“Cool! I wanna try!” She went to grab the cymbals, and then stopped herself. She lowered her hands again and sobered her expression. May was very calm and serious. Well, she always was, but Bobbi Ann knew that sometimes people were calm and serious about things they cared about a lot and if she wanted to join in she needed to be calm and serious too. It was called being _respectful._ She was getting pretty good at it, but it still took effort sometimes. 

“I mean,” she began again, “may I please have a turn?” 

May smiled, and helped her until she could use the charm properly. Bobbi rang it over and over once she got the habit, quite please with herself. 

“What do you use them for?” she asked, after a while. “Are they for music?”

“Not really,” May explained. “They can be, but I use them for meditation. They help me focus and clear my mind.”

“Really?” Bobbi frowned, skeptical. “I don’t think it’s relaxing. I think it would be annoying. Like trying to sleep when there’s a tap dripping down the hall.”

May snorted.

“You sound just like your mother,” she remarked. “When she used to live here, she used to do tai chi with me every morning.”

“Cool!” Bobbi cheered. “Is that what you were doing before? The dancing? Can you teach me how?” 

“Sure,” May agreed. “First you have to put the cymbals down. And then you have to be very still, and quiet… no, not that still, you can move, I just mean, um… slow, and serious. Like me, but not trying to be funny. That’s good… Now see what I’m doing with my arms?” 

- 

Later that morning, Daisy pulled her (definitely not hung-over, shh) self into one of the stools at the kitchen bench. Everyone was moving a bit more slowly and sensitively than usual after an unexpectedly big night, and she was grateful for the sound of the kettle quietly bubbling and the smell of tea – nice, warm, inviting tea – and the way a cup was pushed into her hands with minimal effort required. May stood across from her, smiling that little devious smile, as if she knew how much it would hurt Daisy’s head if she were to throw her metal spoon into the metal sink right now. She did not do it, though, and all her movements remained calm and deliberate. Daisy smiled.

“Bobbi Ann was telling me earlier,” Daisy greeted, “she did ‘try tree’ with you this morning,”

“Try tree?” May shook her head. “Sounds like a tongue twister.”

“She wasn’t a menace, was she? She’s not very good at reading spaces yet. Or the Hand of No.”

“She’s a kid, Daisy, of course she’s not.” A beat of silence. “The Hand of what?” 

“Nothing,” Daisy took a sip of her tea. Already, she could feel her head clearing. “So she actually did it, huh? Did you guys enjoy yourselves?” 

“Yes, I think so,” May said. “Once she got the excitement of my tingsha bells out of her system she was actually quite willing to learn. I think she enjoyed herself. Not that she’ll tell you that. Being silent and still is not usually that fun.” 

“Oh yeah, it’s a rip-roaring time, especially at five o’clock in the morning. Party down.” Daisy raised a fist in a mock cheer, but she smiled to herself nonetheless. For all her teasing, she did miss it a little. Maybe more than a little. 

“You know…” May began, and waited for Daisy to lift her eyes again. “Bobbi Ann has promised to come back tomorrow. You could join us too, if you like.”

Daisy raised her eyes to the ceiling. She’d never been planning on staying here. But contrary to her expectations, she did not feel fear or restlessness. Rather, a sort of bemused acceptance, as if finally reading the signs the universe had been sending her. With a quick roll of her eyes, Daisy smiled at her own fate. 

“Sure, okay. Sounds great.” 

She was a little surprised, but warmed to see that May was smiling back. 

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.” 

They sat in a soft and familiar silence for a moment, sipping their tea in mutual peace and solitude.

Then Bobbi Ann ran into the kitchen making the sound of an old World War II plane, and threw her cup into the sink, and cheered when it landed inside. 

(May smiled. Daisy smiled too - to Bobbi’s face, and then as her daughter ran from the room again, sunk down around her cup of tea with an exaggerated, silent groan. May put a hand on her shoulder and slid a foil sheet of aspirin across the bench.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy is on her first "real" date since Lincoln, and Bobbi-Ann is nervous about meeting her mother's new girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sharing the love for this verse everyone! You're welcome to make requests here or on Tumblr (@theclaravoyant). I'm also accepting Pride prompts not necessarily related to this 'verse.

“When’s Mommy coming home?” Bobbi-Ann wondered. May frowned a little. It was an unusual question from the girl, who was usually content to be passed around between her mother’s friends and family without protest. 

“I don’t know,” May told her, truthfully. “Probably not until after you’ve gone to bed.”

Bobbi pouted down at the drawing she was making, but continued forlornly. 

“We can text her goodnight if you like,” May offered. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to stay up til she gets home.” 

May snorted. 

“I don’t think you are.” 

Bobbi narrowed her eyes. 

“Am too.” 

“Are not.”  
  
“Am too.”

“What are you drawing there?”

Bobbi-Ann knew when she was being distracted, but she also knew how far in circles _Am Not – Are Too_ could go. She had better things to do with her evening. She had to prepare. 

“Am too,” she said, a final time, before picking up the drawing to show to May. “It’s us, there’s Grandpa and you and that’s Mom and there’s me. See?” 

“Yes, I see,” May agreed, looking over the picture. The drawing was crude, as any small child’s would be, and Bobbi’s hand had drawn Coulson’s tie comically oversized. It made her smile. The smile sank a little, however, when she saw the space that Bobbi had left next to the figure of herself; on one side was Daisy and May, and on the other, a sizeable white space and then Coulson. It had to be deliberate; it looked too prepared to be the natural expression of a child’s failure to grasp symmetry. 

“I haven’t finished it yet,” Bobbi-Ann explained. “That’s where Mom’s special friend goes, but I don’t know what she looks like yet so I left it blank.” 

At this, May’s small smile returned. She studied the blank space pensively. Bobbi’s straightforwardness was optimistic in the face of a history she did not know. A history of her mother’s lost loves, and the twisted fates of their bizarre little family that could easily drive Daisy’s _special friend_ away. Yet, May did not feel the need to explain any of this to Bobbi; to clarify that it was their first real date, and that a first date did not mean family. That was a conversation for another time and probably, for another person. Plus, May wished Daisy and this _special friend_ well. It seemed like cursing them, to highlight the likely impending end of their relationship so early on.

“I’m sure Mom will love it,” May assured her. “But you’re going to have to finish it later. It’s time for little girls to be in bed.” 

“I don’t _want_ to,” Bobbi insisted. 

“Mom said,” May protested, “and you don’t want to get Grandma in trouble with Mom, do you?” 

“No.” Sulking, Bobbi dragged herself to her feet.

“Thank you,” May said, “and don’t forget to brush your teeth!” 

Bobbi rolled her eyes, but stomped into the bathroom. Of course, this was Daisy’s daughter, and May should have known better than to believe that she would give up that easily. But it was late and, May thought, Bobbi had to be tired- probably more tired than she herself would suspect - and that’s why she was, despite her protests, actually being obedient. 

The reality, of course, was different. The reality was that after a few minutes of reading her book in the next room, May became acutely aware of a sound distinctly like that of toys tumbling through their box. She looked up at the clock. It was past 10pm by now. May shook her head. That child was dedicated. 

Laying her book aside, May crept toward Bobbi’s room and pushed the door open quietly, just in case she had misheard. Bobbi was caught, however, with her arms buried deep in one of the crates that served as her drawers. May frowned. 

“That doesn’t look like a little girl who is in bed,” she scolded. Bobbi sighed, and pulled out the cardboard roll she had been searching for and a paintbrush, and retreated to the table in her room, where she had set herself up with brightly coloured crepe paper and craft glue. May gestured to the bottle of glue.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to us that on the carpet either, are we?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Bobbi whined, by way of over-exhausted explanation. “I just want Mommy to come _home.”_

She stomped her feet, tears beginning to flow in the midst of strong and confusing emotions. May softened, and enveloped her in a hug.

“Mommy’s alright,” May assured her. “She’s just having a nice dinner. She’ll be back when you wake up, I promise. She loves you very, very much.” 

“Where’s _Daddy_ then?” Bobbi demanded. “Mommy says _he_ loves me and _he’s_ not here anymore.” 

“That’s different, sweetie,” May assured her. “He would be here if he could. And, you know, I’m Mom’s new special friend will love you a lot too. We all love you so much, Bobbi. Nobody’s going to leave you alone.” 

“I know.”

Weeping, Bobbi-Ann buried her face in May’s shoulder. May held her gently and stroked her hair and shoulder, as reassuring as she knew how to be. 

“You know, sometimes we feel very scared or upset when we’re tired,” May told her. “I promise, if you go to sleep, it will feel better in the morning. We can even do something special for Mommy and her friend then, if you like.” 

“I already started,” Bobbi said, and pointed to the crepe paper on the table. 

“Oh?” May raised an eyebrow. Bobbi took the cardboard toilet paper roll back to the table and stood it on its end. She picked up a piece of crepe paper art that she had already completed, and dropped it in there, so that the roll served as a vase for what May now recognised was a crepe paper flower made out of bright pink paper, wrapped around what appeared to be a pen or pencil, and stuck with tape. Or, if Bobbi-Ann would have her way, glue. 

“That’s very pretty, Bobbi,” May praised. “I’m sure we can help finish them tomorrow!” 

She was about to usher Bobbi to bed when her phone buzzed in her pocket. It must have been Daisy, so she pulled it out to check it. 

_Nearly home, thanks so much! x_

May sighed. After all Bobbi-Ann’s determination, it seemed a shame – and probably at this point, an impossibility – to send her to bed again so close to the finish line. She picked up a pencil and leaned in instead. 

“How about you show me how to make one of those?” 

They managed two each between them before the doorbell rang. May stood and moved to answer it, and had the decency to look mildly chagrined as Bobbi-Ann bumbled after her, focusing on keeping together the bouquet of fake-flowers that was slightly too big for her small hands. 

“Bobbi-Ann Johnson!” Daisy cried, running up and kneeling before her, giving her a brief hug before looking back at May and then Bobbi again. “Why didn’t you go to sleep when Grandma asked you?!” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Bobbi explained. “Grandma helped me make these for Zoe.” 

“Oh, they’re lovely,” Daisy praised. Bobbi-Ann tried to press them into her mother’s hands but Daisy turned back to the doorway and beckoned her _special friend_ to enter. May waited unassumingly as the woman hesitantly made her way over the threshold and made the obligatory awkward-smiling rounds of greetings – which May reciprocated with only slightly less awkwardness - before shuffling toward Daisy and Bobbi-Ann. 

Bobbi-Ann looked up at the woman her mother had brought home. She was tall and strong, and reminded her a little of Aunt Bobbi in her posture, especially her shoulders. Except, unlike Bobbi, she had large dark eyes, and dark hair, and smooth brown skin that reminded her more of Aunt Elena’s, except she was younger. She had a bigger nose than Bobbi too, and she wore more make-up, like shiny dark red-purple lips. Probably to go with her shiny dark red-purple dress, which she hitched and adjusted around herself a little as she hesitantly knelt down to Bobbi’s level, a few feet away. 

“Hi, Bobbi-Ann,” the woman greeted, smiling, a little uncertain but friendly nonetheless. “I’m Zoe. Your Mom has told me lots of stories about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Are those for me?”

Bobbi-Ann looked from Zoe, up to Daisy. Daisy smiled and nudged her forward and, reassured, Bobbi-Ann padded forward until the bouquet she was holding outstretched met Zoe’s hands. 

“You’re pretty,” Bobbi-Ann said. “I’m glad you love Mommy.” 

Zoe blushed and looked across at Daisy, who was blushing deeply too. May took this moment to interrupt, steering Bobbi-Ann to bed with a firmer tone this time and Bobbi - having successfully delivered her present and in doing so, discovered just how tired she really was - finally obeying. She toddled off to bed with heavy legs and May followed to tuck her in, leaving Daisy and Zoe alone in the main room to say their farewells. 

May returned to find Daisy leaning her back against the closed door, blushing and beaming at nothing. She raised an eyebrow.

“Good night?” May wondered. 

 _“Great_ night,” Daisy replied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Daisy has to use her Mom Powers for good - like setting up the odd "impromptu" babysitting session to make Mamma May smile :)

_“May.”_

“Johnson,” Daisy greeted, mimicking her tone. She could almost feel the eye-roll emanating from the phone. Beside her, Jemma grinned and snickered quietly. She waved a hand for her to shut up, and tried to keep the amusement out of her own voice when she asked:

“Could Grandma May be so kind as to pick up Bobbi Ann from Mackenriguez? It’s just, this… uh, mission… is taking longer than I expected.” 

_“And why can’t Fitz do it?”_

“Bobbi has a science project I don’t want his help on.”

May was unconvinced. 

“…and she requested you?” 

There was no harm in sweetening the deal, Daisy figured, but in truth Bobbi Ann had done nothing of the sort. In fact, Fitz picked her up quite often and they enjoyed themselves, as they no doubt would do today even – or perhaps especially – with Auntie Jemma away from the site of their impending mischief. It was Daisy who had ulterior motives this afternoon. Perhaps disguising them as her daughter’s wishes was unfair, but what was parenthood if not the occasional white lie? 

(Besides, Daisy had been doing this for years now, and if May was noticing, she was letting it slide.) 

 _“She requested me,”_ May repeated. _“And did you explain to ‘her’ that Grandma May has a job to do? As second in command at a secret government agency that has repeatedly saved the world?”_

(She was definitely noticing.)

Daisy grinned and bit her lip. 

“What can I say?” she offered innocently. “She’s high maintenance, that one.” 

May almost cracked a smile at that. She bit back a comment about the fruitlessness of flattery and promised to be at Mack and Elena’s by four. If Daisy thought she was getting away with it, she didn’t rub it in. At least this time her partner in crime refrained from giggling too early, before she’d hung up. 

In truth, May was glad to be called upon. She was not typically the subject of any kind of social outreach and trying too hard to force a connection was a waste of everybody’s time. If Daisy was trying to do it subtly – even if she was failing at that last part – May could be nothing but grateful. Long ago she had lost her more maternal edge to a cold and frigid fire, burning off the softer parts of herself so that the core would survive. With Daisy, and now Bobbi-Ann, she sometimes felt like new little green shoots were starting to grow again, like after the winter. She didn’t mind winter so much really, but there was something truly magical about the way Bobbi Ann’s smile felt like the sun on her face. 

“Grandma! Grandma!” Bobbi Ann cheered, racing to her and around her as she walked up the garden path. Mack and Elena’s daughter Kiki - Francesca - was not far behind, and chanting the same, while Mack and a big-bellied Elena waited int eh doorway with patient, loving smiles. 

“Daisy sent me to get this little anklebiter out of your hair,” May explained, as Bobbi and Francesca rushed past them and back inside. 

“Thanks,” Elena said, with fond exhaustion in her tone. 

“We’d keep her later,” Mack explained, “but Gonzo here has an appointment with Doctor Martin.” 

“ _Aiya_ ,” Elena sighed, and elbowed him. “I hope he is born soon. The names are getting worse.” 

Mack laughed, and kissed the top of her head fondly. May smiled.

“Would you like me to take Francesca as well?” May offered, “or does she have plans tonight?” 

“Would you?” Elena jumped at the chance. “I’m sure she’d rather that than come to the doctors with us again.”

“Apparently the toys there are for babies,” Mack added. May hummed in sympathy. An intelligent and self-respecting eight year old like Francesca would have no doubted exhausted the wonders of a fake telephone and a small, incomplete pirate ship. 

“It’d be my pleasure,” she assured them. 

Elena shouted for her daughter to get her things – and for her and Bobbi Ann to hurry up about it. The two of them raced back to the foyer and jumped to a standstill, straight as rods and with their backpacks at their feet. Elena grinned. 

“Thank you, _mis niñas._ ” She patted each on the head and gave Kiki a little kiss. “Pórtate bien, por favor.”

“Yes Mama,” Francesca agreed, and then put a hand on Elena’s belly. “Pórtate bien, bebé.” 

With that they were ready to walk out the door. Bobbi Ann waved her aunt and uncle (and unborn baby cousin, just in case) goodbye, and then her and Francesca resumed arguing about who was the best character in a TV show they had been watching lately. May had trouble following – and apparently, they had trouble making up their minds – but she smiled to herself as she drove while the girls in the back seat bickered.

“But jungle powers are the coolest!” Kiki insisted. 

“Only if there’s a jungle!” Bobbi retorted. “Can’t swing from the vines if there aren’t any vines! Duh!” 

“Talia _makes_ the vines?” Kiki shot back, with a similarly exasperated tone. She gestured with her hands. “Like Spider Man. But better.” 

“Well, I still think it’s silly.” Bobbi stuck up her nose. “Water powers are obviously the best. And there’s water _everywhere.”_  

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yah-huh!”

“Not in the desert!” 

Bobbi scowled. Kiki grinned in victory. 

“What about animal powers?” she continued. “I’d like to turn into a cat. A big cat. Then I could be all ROAR like a lion and beat up all the bad guys –“ she clawed the air “- and when I was done I could be a small cat, and go to sleep in front of the TV and get lots of pats.”

“Really? I’d like to be a dog,” Bobbi said. “I could be big and brave like a police dog, and go to the park whenever I want, and get treats, and learn how to swim.” 

Kiki screwed up her nose. 

“Cats don’t like water,” she said, disappointed.

“Aw yeah. Hey, but you can climb trees though!” Bobbi Ann pointed out. The girls cheered in unison, and May laughed quietly at the image in her mind of this strange little superhero duo. 

“What do _you_ think is the best, Grandma?” Bobbi asked. Her and Kiki sat forward in their seats and May explained, with a noble and controlled expression: 

“I think the best superpower is being kind and loyal and having lots of compassion, and doing what’s right.” 

Of course, Bobbi and Kiki groaned. 

_“BORING!”_

But not boring enough, fortunately, to be cut out of their little game the rest of the afternoon. In fact, May was even challenged to brush off what sewing skills remained somewhere in the back of her brain, and help the girls assemble superhero costumes for their little team. It was surprisingly fun to figure out new ways of using things, arming them with spatulas and chopping boards for bullet proof vests, and making gloves – “like Aunty Daisy’s!” – out of socks and scraps and cardboard. In the end, May had been almost as disappointed as the girls were when it came time to pack up. 

(She even let them eat dinner in their cuffs and tiaras, before insisting that superheroes had to look after their armour and finding them each a shoebox to keep their costumes in.) 

When Daisy finally arrived, she found Kiki and Bobbi Ann asleep on a mattress on the floor of the living room. Picking her way past them quietly, she found May emerging from the back hallway into the kitchen, having just put away the sewing machine. Her trademark black outfit was dotted all over with cotton flecks and a little paint in bright blue and green, yellow and red, and she was smiling as if she’d forgot the smile was even there. Daisy suppressed a chuckle. 

“Have a good day?” she asked.

May shrugged, and Daisy beamed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for two prompts: 1) Bobbi-Ann and Kiki find some ~magic crystals~ they just HAVE to have for their costumes and it doesn't end well, and 2) after a weekend babysitting Bobbi-Ann and Kiki, FitzSimmons officially decide not to have kids. This is one of the angstier installments! but I hope you like it anyway.

Fitz beamed, and dropped down to one knee as Bobbi-Ann and Kiki cheered his arrival. They ran to him and he embraced them, looking over their familiar faces – they grew so much every time he saw them! - and the brightly coloured costumes they were wearing. Patched together from old clothes and bits and bobs and someone’s amateur but passable sewing skills, the girls had matching outfits straight from a comic book.

“Hey girls, what’s this?” He prodded the crest on Bobbi’s chest: a crudely drawn cartoon of a dog’s face. 

“We’re superheroes!” Kiki declared, and Fitz noticed the cat drawn on her chest, matching. His heart warmed.

“Oh, are you?” he checked. “You’ll fit right in. This is a real life superhero base, you know. Aunty Jemma can even get you a special card if you’re really superheroes.” 

“Like your one?” Bobbi-Ann tugged at Fitz’s security card. “All the grown-ups have one.” 

“Well, yours won’t be able to open doors yet. But I’ll see what I can do.” 

Fitz winked, and the girls laughed. He was making quite a name for himself, tinkering with half the things they owned and making what all the aunties called ‘improvements.’ Usually with the quotation marks implied, although some of them were genuinely quite good. 

Mack, laden with the girls’ bags, rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Fitz stood up to greet him, as the girls scampered off to find their Aunt. 

“Don’t go giving these two any ideas,” Mack warned. “They’ve got plenty of their own.” 

Fitz shook his head. “Come on, they’ll be fine.” 

“Fighting words.” Mack raised an eyebrow. Fitz decided to pull his head in, and helped Mack offload what seemed like all the girls’ belongings. Two backpacks, a duffel, and two very important-looking shoeboxes. (For the superhero costumes, Mack explained). And a scooter? Fitz stepped back with his hands on his hips and examined the pile. All this, for a one-night sleep-over? In an underground secret army base? Maybe Mack was right to warn him. After all, it wasn’t like he’d been the most demure and obedient of children himself. Kids with Daisy and Elena’s blood would be bouncing off the walls in no time – and probably busting through police tape and bringing down the patriarchy to boot. 

Still, it was just one night. And that’s when he found himself thinking that fateful, accursed phrase: 

_How bad could it be?_

_-_

At first, it wasn’t too bad at all. It was quite fun, in fact. Jemma found them each a cardboard flashcard that they coloured in – rainbow colours, because the Spectrum of Security made about as much sense to them as it did to anyone else here – and they ran around the place delightedly ‘activating’ the fridge and the bathroom door and anything else they could think of. Then Fitz took them out the back to a hangar-sized training facility, and pretended to be the monsters and villains to their play pretend games. Between their fast legs, Bobbi’s scooter and Kiki’s wheeled shoes, the girls had him rethinking his cardio routine (or lack thereof). At least he got a good laugh out of them with very dramatic finger-gun antics. 

“You’re funny, Uncle Fitz,” Kiki said, sitting on his chest after having ‘captured’ him. “Can we have lunch now?” 

Fitz sighed with relief. He’d thought they’d never ask.

Fortunately, Jemma had anticipated them, and prepared a spread of finger foods. The girls’ faces lit up and they ran for the table, chanting _yes Aunty Jemma_ when she warned that they must have at least two sandwiches before any fairy bread.

“Party pies! _Yes!”_ Fitz cheered. On his way past the table, he scooped up a fun-sized sausage roll and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth. Jemma turned to him, glaring sharply, about to tell him off, but laughed instead when she saw the exaggerated exhaustion in his shoulders. She nudged him playfully. 

“Did they run you off your feet, old man?” she teased.

“Many times, Jemma,” Fitz replied, with a wizened tone, pretending to favour a sore back. “Many times.” 

“I told you, you should be doing stair runs.” 

Fitz couldn’t argue with that, so he just rolled his eyes. Jemma smiled to herself, smug in her victory, and bit into a cucumber sandwich as she turned her attention back to the girls. 

To the _girl._  

Fitz and Jemma shared a glance. 

“Kiki?” Jemma asked, trying not to let her voice show the sudden worry that had clutched at her heart. “Where’s Bobbi? Did she got to the bathroom?” 

Kiki twisted in her seat, bread and sprinkles hanging from her hand like nothing was wrong. She frowned at her Aunt and Uncle. They looked really nervous for some reason, and it made her uncomfortable. 

“She had an idea,” Kiki explained. “For our superhero costumes. Well, it was kind of both our ideas.” 

“What kind of idea, sweetie?” Jemma asked. 

“We found some cool stuff before. Some lights and stuff and these crystal things. Bobbi said her mum said they have magical powers.”

Jemma and Fitz looked at each other again. _Don’t panic._

“Did Bobbi’s mum also tell her that she shouldn’t ever touch them?” Fitz asked. “And neither should you?” 

Kiki shrugged and pressed her lips together, apologetic that she did not have answer. Fitz ground his teeth together. Jemma flapped her hands, and pressed them to her neck, fighting to stay calm.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “You stay here. I’ll go find Bobbi. It’s fine, right? She can’t get into the lab storage anyway. I’ll be right back. Everything’s fine.”

-

Everything, needless to say, was not fine.

So not fine, in fact, that within seconds, alarms began blaring overhead. Down the hall, lights flashed. Doors began automatically sealing. 

Jemma bit back a curse and near-sprinted off toward them. Kiki’s discomfort transformed into keen distress and she found a helpless wail building up in her throat. Should she go after Jemma, and try to find Bobbi? Was Bobbi okay? Was she in trouble? The telling-off kind of trouble or the really dangerous kind where, Kiki knew, they were supposed to tell an adult anyway?

“I’m sorry!” she cried, tears wetting her cheeks and tugging at her voice. “I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to touch it! Don’t get Bobbi in trouble, please!” 

Crooning reassurances, Fitz lifted Kiki from her seat. He quickly sat down again in her place, with her on his lap – she was getting too big for him to carry for long periods of time - but she nuzzled closer to him and tried to hug his wide chest, and Fitz felt sorry for her. She must be terrified. He was scared enough without the dramatic imagination of a ten year old. He rubbed her back. She was shaking. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Fitz promised. “All those loud sounds are just warnings, like what a fire truck does. They help keep people safe.” 

“Is Bobbi Ann going to be safe?”

- 

Jemma almost skidded to a halt outside the lab doors. They were sealed, but she had an override. She just had to make sure it wasn’t…. That it wasn’t….

Her breath caught. 

On the other side of the glass, grey powder covered the floor. A broken crystal. A few stranded lab techs looked on in horror, their eyes fixated on a point. The same point that Jemma’s eyes slowly, reluctantly found.

Bobbi Ann. 

Encased in stone. 

_Oh, God. Oh my God._

Meaningless sentences of distress circled around and around in her mind but now Jemma moved with surprising calm. She had a job to do. She had to figure out what kind of stone this was, what had happened, what had happened to Bobbi. She had to figure out what to tell Daisy, but that was later. She felt sick – sick with worry, sick with fear, sick with guilt. She’d only turned her eyes away for a minute. Maybe two. 

She knelt by Bobbi Ann. That minute, maybe two, could have been the difference between life and death. That orange card, dropped from Bobbi’s fingers. Jemma clenched her jaw. 

“Who gave her this?” 

Nobody came forward. _Later,_ she told herself. Now was the moment of truth. To look into Bobbi’s eyes. That was the easiest way to tell; the place where the different densities of the stone was most obvious. Would she find the flaky, ash-like substance of doom, or the granite-like encasement of a terragenisis pod?

The latter. Slightly shiny. Rough to look at, but smooth to touch. It did not crumble beneath her fingertips. 

Jemma breathed at last. She let her hands find balance on the floor as relief washed over her and she remembered that the crystals here were not Jiaying’s weaponised ones. They were never going to have hurt her. And Bobbi-Ann, with two Inhuman parents? She’d always been headed for this. Daisy was going to be pissed. Pissed beyond all belief. She could probably look forward to the biggest fight they’d ever had over this, but Jemma couldn’t help but be relieved, as the shell began to crack and Bobbi-Ann looked back at her. Just the same. Crying, terrified, but safe after all. Jemma swept her into a hug. 

“Aunty Jemma?” Bobbi confessed, from the cocoon of her Aunt’s protective arms. “I’m really scared. I think I wet my pants.” 

Jemma almost laughed with relief as she pulled back to hold Bobbi more loosely. She wiped the tears off her face, and gently smiled. 

“Oh, that’s okay, sweetie,” she promised. “It’s okay to be scared. And Daddy brought lots of spare pants. Let’s go change, okay?”

 _Okay. Okay. Okay._ Jemma’s heart pumped with it. Bobbi-Ann nodded, and gripped her hand firmly as Jemma led her back to the others. Aunty Jemma nattered on about how they were going to use Granddad’s special private bathroom because the real showers here weren’t very nice for little girls. Bobbi Ann didn’t pay much attention, but she was glad to see Uncle Fitz and Kiki again, even though she had wet her pants. 

Aunty Jemma kept asking her if she felt okay, and she couldn’t answer that question. She just wanted her mother. That would make everything okay. Even though she was getting big and she was in school and this was all quite embarrassing and she’d probably get in trouble, she couldn’t help it. She was used to understanding things and she didn’t this time, and Daisy did. Daisy would. 

“I want my Mommy,” she confessed at last. Aunty Jemma nodded, very serious and sad, and promised that she would get her, so Bobbi Ann had a bath and Jemma had a difficult conversation. 

-

It was a conversation so long and difficult that Jemma didn’t leave the side office she’d taken it in for some time. Bobbi Ann finished her bath and she and Kiki had a more subdued conversation, and went to bed without protest. Fitz tucked them in alone, since Jemma was busy, but they expressed no interest in a bedtime story. Instead, they apologised. Fitz accepted it as gratefully as he could; he was angry, and scared, and not looking forward to the likely coldness between himself and Jemma and Daisy over this, but at least the girls now understood what they’d done wrong. They understood now, why they had these rules in place. Why they weren’t allowed in the lab, or to open the cabinets, or to touch certain things. Sometimes these were lessons that had to be learned the hard way.

Still, the air hanging over them was heavy when Jemma at last retired from her phone call, and crawled back into the lounge with exhaustion written all over her. She collapsed onto the couch, and curled up by Fitz’s side. There were tears on her face. 

“Daisy’s mad,” she confirmed softly. 

“I know,” Fitz said. He stroked her hair, and passed her a cup of tea he’d prepared. “It’s just because she’s scared. We’ll be alright.”

“We could have killed her little girl!” Jemma lamented.

“No, we couldn’t have,” Fitz replied calmly. “Those crystals were not dangerous, remember? Nobody would have gotten hurt. Just changed.”

Jemma bit her lip. That was a whole loaded topic she didn’t feel like touching. 

“It was irresponsible,” she said instead. 

“It was. But irresponsible like letting an eight year old get their ears pierced, not like, letting her walk out in front of a truck. Right?”

Jemma hummed uncertainly. Fitz swallowed hard. He was doing a good job keeping calm, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up. That fear they’d felt today, it would be worse for Daisy. No matter how logical it was or was not, it was hard not to be mad at somebody who’d inflicted that much fear. And the change was not entirely a harmless one: Daisy had been labouring over questions of Bobbi and identity and terragenisis for years. It was a change that put her at risk. At society’s risk, but maybe even at her own, especially given the volatility of each of her parent’s powers. In the scheme of overarching morality, they were in the clear, but nobody could deny that it was dangerous. 

Fitz and Jemma sat in silence for a while, letting the day settle over them. It weighed on them, and turned their minds to other questions. Questions like, _if it had been our daughter._ Answers that they could not ignore.

“Fitz?” Jemma murmured, her head in his lap.

“Yeah?” He looked down at her; her eyes were pained and earnest.

“I don’t think we should have kids.”

He blinked, and looked away. It hurt to realise that he agreed.

“We live in too much danger,” Jemma continued. “What I felt today, I couldn’t – I couldn’t take that every day. I couldn’t have the kids around here. I certainly couldn’t send them away. And even if we moved, we’d keep working with Shield wouldn’t we? And even if we didn’t… We’ve done too much now. I couldn’t let them be. I’d never stop worrying if they’d been hurt, or attacked, or kidnapped…” Her voice hitched, eyes shining. “And that’s aside from everything else, like – like, who knows if I can even carry anymore or…”

“Jemma. Stop.” Fitz squeezed her hand gently. “I agree with you. I understand.”

“I wanted to,” she insisted, and her body started shaking with sobs as tears began to pool. “I wanted to, but I was so scared. I was _so…”_

She shook her head, finally falling victim to her tears as they flooded down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook. Fitz scooped her up and wrapped her in his arms, and she cried and cried. She cried for herself, for Fitz, for Bobbi-Ann and her fear, for Daisy’s fear and anger and the blow their friendship had taken today. She cried a lot, and soon enough, tears were slipping down Fitz’s cheeks, too. He held her tighter, until the tears were finally drained. Only then, and only gradually, did he peel back. 

“Are you okay?” he checked. 

Jemma nodded, wiping away tears again. “You?”

“I’ve been better,” Fitz confessed, and Jemma smiled sadly. With one arm, Fitz pulled her against his chest and she cuddled up to him. Daisy was on her way and they had to wait up, so this cocoon of warmth was not going to last long, but as they’d promised each other time and time again, they were going to endure it together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobbi-Ann asks her Aunts Jemma and Bobbi about what happened to her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sharing the love for this verse everyone! You're welcome to make requests here or on Tumblr (@theclaravoyant)

“Why is Mommy mad at you and Uncle Fitz?”

Bobbi-Ann asked, holding her arm out obediently as her aunt carefully drew a small vial of blood. Jemma smiled tightly, remembering Daisy – who she’d left with Fitz and Bobbi, pacing on the other side of the glass, muttering about how she hadn’t wanted her daughter to become an experiment. And here they were. They’d spent the morning testing Bobbi-Ann’s mind, reflexes, and vital signs in an effort to unearth her powers and with nothing yielded, had eventually negotiated a small blood sample to be drawn. Daisy was coming around. Very, very slowly. And mostly, at her daughter’s request.

“Remember when you played with the special crystals?” Jemma explained to the pouting Bobbi-Ann. “And one broke, and you went into the rock?”  
  
“Terragenesis?” 

“Yes. Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Your Uncle Fitz and I were supposed to keep you safe and we didn’t do a very good job and that’s why Mommy’s angry.”

Bobbi-Ann frowned. “Is Terragenesis bad?”

“No,” Jemma replied, “but it can be dangerous. There are lots of mean people who don’t like Inhumans, for one thing – and for another; sometimes getting powers can be painful. When your mother first got her powers, she broke her arms by accident. It can be very scary! Your Mom just doesn’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.” 

“Well it’s not your fault,” Bobbi-Ann insisted. “I shouldn’t have been playing there. You did tell me not to, lots of times before.” 

Jemma smiled fondly. “You’re a sensible child.” 

“What does that mean?” Bobbi-Ann had a strange feeling she was supposed to be offended. Or flattered? It was hard to tell. 

“It means you use your mind a lot to make decisions,” Jemma explained. “But your Mom, she uses her heart more. Her feelings.” 

“Her gut?” 

“Yes. Her gut. And it can be very good and right sometimes, but it’s also why she can stay angry for _quite_ a long time.” Jemma’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, and she couldn’t help but smile when Bobbi-Ann giggled, as if she could relate through her experience of her mother’s moods. Nevertheless, Jemma was glad when Tall Bobbi – as they’d taken to calling her – swooped in to change the conversation. 

“Hey, beautiful,” she greeted, grinning. “Guess what Aunt Bobbi’s got for you? A special treat all the way from California!” 

Bobbi’s face lit up. _“Cactus Cooler?”_

“Cactus Cooler!” Tall-Bobbi cheered, producing the can proudly. “Because you’ve been so good for us today and we’ve made you work really hard! Yay!” 

“Yay!”

Bobbi-Ann reached for the can with glee, and Bobbi jumped – nearly dropping it. Jemma frowned. It was unlike Bobbi to be so clumsy, especially around so much critical equipment. Then Bobbi-Ann laughed. 

“What was that?” she wondered, and then laughed harder, and pointed at Bobbi’s hair, which was doing its level best to escape its ties; frazzled strands reaching up for the roof. Jemma frowned, and then looked down at her own arms. Her hair was standing on end too. She looked up, toward the two-way mirror where Fitz and Daisy were waiting, and sure enough the two of them stepped into the room, frowning with curiosity and concern. 

Bobbi-Ann, meanwhile, was happily enjoying her soda until she hiccupped, and squeaked in horror. She dropped the can, and it spilt all over her shorts and the bed, and started dripping onto the floor, and the adults in the room just stared. Slack-jawed. In awe. 

There was no mistaking that electric spark that had lit her up just now. 

“Am I in trouble?” Bobbi-Ann guessed. 

Tall Bobbi looked at Jemma. Jemma looked at Fitz. Fitz turned around and looked at Daisy, who covered her mouth and her eyes and retreated back the way they had come – crying. Fitz blustered a silent excuse and followed, and Bobbi-Ann gave up her quest to climb down from the adult-sized med-bay bed, and hung her hands limply by her side. 

“I don’t understand,” she declared. “Why is Mommy crying?”

Jemma bit her lip. Hot tears pricked at her eyes, and she wondered if she shouldn’t go and find Daisy – but no, Fitz was already on that and somebody had to stay here. And she hadn’t even started the tests on Bobbi’s blood yet. Was there still a point to that? Was there still a point now that they knew? Maybe so. Maybe the powers were hereditary after all, somehow. It didn’t make sense yet but there was so much to learn – so much that tried to grab her attention, and yet no attention to give it. Jemma couldn’t shake the memory, all of a sudden, of Daisy collapsing on the floor in tears. 

Of Lincoln. 

“It’s not your fault, sweetie,” she managed eventually, dabbing at her eyes as best she could. “We’re all just a little surprised, that’s all.”

Bobbi-Ann frowned. This was not how people were supposed to act when they were surprised. Then again, her family had always been odd about these things. 

“So Mommy’s not mad at me?” 

“No,” Jemma crooned. “No, baby, not at all.” 

“She’s sad, isn’t she?” Bobbi-Ann suggested. “I bet it’s about my dad. Right?” 

She looked between her aunties sternly, and they had no choice but to answer her. Aunt Bobbi stepped in and lifted her from the sticky soda mess – even little Bobbi was getting a bit too big for to be carried these days, but this was a special occasion – and set her down a few feet away. Tugging and brushing little Bobbi’s clothes back into shape, Tall Bobbi explained:

“Your Mommy’s sad because it looks like you have the same powers as your dad, and she misses your dad very much. But she’s happy too, I think, because it reminds her of him. You’re a very special girl, Bobbi-Ann. And your dad was very special too.” 

“What happened to him?” 

Bobbi-Ann stared at Bobbi for a long moment, and then switched her gaze to Jemma. Both seemed reluctant to explain to her. They were both sad. Didn’t they know she already understood her father was dead, gone, and not coming back? She understood that. But nobody ever talked about him around here and sometimes it felt like he had never existed, and if he was so special to her Mom, Bobbi-Ann wanted to know about him. 

“I know his name was Lincoln,” she said. “Like the President. And now I guess I know he had electricity powers. And he wanted to be a doctor. That’s all I know.”

Jemma bit her lip and dropped her eyes. Three pieces of information wasn’t much to show for Lincoln’s legacy. She wasn’t sure what Daisy would have to say about it – but then, she already was in Daisy’s doghouse, so now was as good a time as any. Perhaps she should say something after all.

Or perhaps she wouldn’t have to, as Aunt Bobbi knelt before her niece and took her hands carefully, gently, and explained. 

“Your Mom knows a lot more about your dad than I do,” she said, “but I do know how he died. Are you sure you want me to tell you?” 

Bobbi-Ann nodded. 

“Okay. Well, a _really_ long time ago – like, before the dinosaurs and everything - there was this creature on another planet called the Hive. And Hive was a really bad creature, and he destroyed this whole other planet, but a bunch of people on earth wanted to make him into a god because they thought he would only destroy the people they didn’t like. And so they made all these plans to bring Hive here.” 

“So he would destroy the Earth?” Bobbi-Ann checked. 

“Yes,” Bobbi confirmed. “And eventually he did come here, and he took over this… this other man’s body, and he pretended to be a person and joined this evil cult, and they wanted to destroy the world and feed all the Inhumans to Hive.”

Bobbi-Ann’s eyes widened. She clutched at her Aunt’s hands. 

“But your Mommy had a plan. It was very clever,” Bobbi explained. “She was going to trick Hive, and fly him into space where he wouldn’t be able to breathe and he would die.”

“But then _she_ would die!” Bobbi-Ann gasped. Jemma shifted in her seat and tried not to bite her nail. 

“She knew that,” Bobbi continued smoothly. “But she was very brave, and she didn’t mind, because she knew it would be saving the whole world and all her friends so she decided it was okay if she had to die. If she really had to. Only, your dad decided that she shouldn’t have to. He wanted to save her life. So after your Mommy tricked Hive, he tricked _her,_ and he took her place on the space ship. And he flew the monster into space and he saved the world. That’s what happened to him.” 

_“Woah.”_

Bobbi-Ann blinked. It was a lot to absorb. Sometimes, living with superheroes and powers everywhere made very strange things seem normal, but sometimes – like now – she was slapped in the face with the very bizarre and extreme reality in which she lived. It was not every day you were told your father died saving the entire world, let alone from an alien death monster. It was difficult to compute. 

And so was the more mundane part, so Bobbi-Ann asked: 

“Then how did I get born?” 

“Well,” Jemma interrupted, just in case Bobbi started at the dawn of time like she had just now. “You were already inside your Mom’s tummy.” 

“But how?” 

“In a way I think you should ask your Mommy about when you’re older,” Bobbi remarked. Bobbi-Ann grinned. She knew enough to know that what they were talking about was naughty, but she wasn’t quite interested enough to chase it yet. Besides, she had plenty more questions about her dad to ask instead.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May (and Daisy) react to the revelation that Bobbi Ann has powers.

After Bobbi Ann went to bed, Daisy hid herself on the Zephyr. She’d gone up under the guise of a late-night online meeting with some Inhumans in Australia, but when she got there, pulled out her laptop and curled up on one of the chairs like old times. What to do, she wondered. Jump on some hacktivist platforms? That might take her mind off things. Work on that game she’d started months back? Or… watch that video of when Bobbi Ann had first learned to walk?

Chubby little toddler legs, and her dad’s straw-blond hair. Daisy twisted her lip between her fingers, watching her younger and considerably more bedraggled self lead the tiny Bobbi Ann across the carpet. These were not her first steps; it was somebody from playgroup a few weeks later, filming them at Daisy’s request. Bobbi-Ann’s tiny little fists clutched at Daisy’s fingers and they walked. Slowly. Unsteadily. Rewatching, Daisy realised that somewhere along the line she’d let herself believe that she’d be able to lead Bobbi through her whole life like that. Protecting her, guiding her… micromanaging her, even. But the world was a chaotic place. Once, Daisy had loved that about it, but now that her little girl had been swept up in its current it was hard not to fear. Hard not to be angry, though she knew everyone meant well.

“You okay?”

Daisy looked up toward the voice to find May, in all her unreadable insightfulness, standing in the doorway. Daisy tried and failed to flash a smile, so May stepped further into the room.

“FitzSimmons are sorry,” she offered.

“I know,” Daisy agreed, shaking her head as she closed her laptop. “I’ll get over it eventually. It’s just – she’s my little girl, that’s all. I feel so…”

“Helpless?”

“I guess that’s it,” Daisy agreed. “I can’t decide what to feel. I’m – unprepared. I wish it hadn’t happened now. I wish Bobbi Ann had got to choose when she went through Terragenesis. I mean, I guess she kind of did, but I mean… It’s just so much. I wish I could have seen it coming.”

“Knowing the future is no small thing,” May pointed out. “You more than anyone should know that. Except maybe Raina.”

Daisy, who’d suffered so much in the name of prophecy. Raina, who’d been killed for what she knew. A chill ran down her spine.

“It was a figure of speech,” Daisy pointed out, but she saw May’s point. No scenario would have ever been ideal and hindsight just shone on all the bad parts of what had been. What if she’d waited until Bobbi-Ann was in her twenties and Bobbi felt she’d been denied part of her identity? What if Bobbi had gone through Terragenesis during puberty or some other emotionally volatile time, wouldn’t that be harder to control? What if she’d been kidnapped and forced through it? As much as Daisy hated to think of it, knowing their lives, such a possibility was not entirely out of the picture. So maybe, in some ways, this was for the best. Besides, Bobbi didn’t seem so traumatized – in fact, just before bed she had been enjoying testing her Uncle Fitz’s room full of circuit-breakers a little too much. Almost as much as Fitz himself had been, Daisy guessed.

The thought brought a tiny smile to her face, and she knew there was no way May missed that, so she let it spread with a little chagrin.

“How do you do that?” she wondered.

“You already know what you know,” May said with a shrug. “Sometimes you just need a little nudge.”

Daisy snorted. “What I need is a drink.”

“I can do that too. Come on.”

May nodded them through to the Zephyr’s bar, and Daisy smiled as she poured each of them two fingers of whiskey. Daisy took a grateful sip, soothed by the familiar burn, and let out a heavy sigh full of the day’s anxieties. If she was not mistaken, May sighed too.

“So. Bobbi-Ann has powers, huh?”

“Yup,” Daisy confirmed. “Same powers as her dad, it looks like. Which…”

She rapped her fingers against her glass, trying to find the words. She’d moved on so long ago, and yet somehow not at all. It was not as raw and painful as it once had been, which in a way made it worse. She could remember the day he’d first smiled at her as easily as the day he’d gone away.

“Which what?” May pressed gently. Daisy rolled her eyes – who was May to demand explanation? – but maybe she knew that talking helped. Putting a name to a thing gave it less power.

“It hurts,” Daisy whispered. She cleared her throat, embracing the courage of confession to soldier through it. “Yeah. It hurts. It’s just – Lincoln had this thing, you know. He thought every Inhuman had their particular powers for a reason. A specific purpose in life. I think he honestly believed at the end there that… he’d always been destined to die, or something. To save me, just because he could turn the plane off. Not like any of us could have done that? Strapped a brick to the accelerator?”

She laughed, and wiped away a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“I don’t know. I never believed that part of it. But now it feels like I’m – I’m being proven right, in a way. If Bobbi Ann has Lincoln’s powers, that means his purpose was never fulfilled. Which means he didn’t have to die for me, which… hurts.”

May nodded, empathising. “Sometimes it hurts, being right.”

“Mhmm.” Daisy clinked her glass against May’s and took a swig. May, meanwhile, took only a sip. She watched Daisy with concerned eyes, and unspoken words behind her lips. She wondered if now was the time to speak them: after all, she and Daisy had clashed over this before, and the last thing she wanted was to cause more pain while Daisy was in such a vulnerable emotional state. Then again, it was precisely because they’d clashed over this before that it was worth mentioning, and it was precisely because of the events of the day that had put Daisy in such a state, that it was worth mentioning now. So May took a deep breath and spoke.

“Nobody’s purpose is ever to die, Daisy,” she pointed out gently. “And losing Lincoln was a tragedy, so I for one am glad that he’s left part of his legacy with us. Bobbi’s a wonderful girl and I’m sure she’ll use her powers for good.”

Daisy looked up then, and in her eyes May saw a little of that fear she was trying to hide; that fear of harm, but also of rejection. The fear that what she had faced, even from her close friends and family, her daughter would face too.

Not so.

“I want you to know that she’s safe with me,” May promised. “As safe as I can make her. And I think I speak for everyone out there, too. We’ve learnt from our mistakes, and we’re going to do better this time. All of us are. But… especially me.”

When Daisy didn’t immediately respond, May dropped her eyes. She remembered all too well Daisy’s burning fury when she’d found out about Bahrain. In all honesty, she did not think Daisy had yet forgiven her for that – and maybe she never would – but still she found herself hoping that it was not destined to always be an open wound between them. That she would protect Bobbi Ann with her life stood on its own, of course, but it’d be a lie to say that no great weight would lift from her shoulders if Daisy saw this as an opportunity to close the gap.

Despite her hopes, though, it still came as a surprise when Daisy slid her glass onto the bench and folded May into her arms with the wordless yet all-expressing love of a child. After a moment, May patted her back softly. Daisy smiled.

“Thank you,” she murmured gratefully. “It’s nice to know she’s in good hands.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy mourns Lincoln and the future she'd never imagined they could have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly closely follows the events of Chapter 10, and to a lesser extent 11. When Bobbi-Ann asks about her father, Daisy runs away - from her feelings and from Shield - but it doesn't last long.
> 
> Partly inspired by @unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot, who remarked on Ch.10 that Daisy should have been the one to tell Bobbi-Ann about her father's death. (hint: Daisy agrees).
> 
> Thanks again for sharing the love for this verse everyone! You're welcome to make requests here or on Tumblr (@theclaravoyant)

Daisy clenched her fists around the steering wheel, no small part of her wishing that she could simply flip the cars in front of her out of their way. It was not that she needed to be somewhere, fortunately – it was just that she needed to be _not here._ Between Bobbi-Ann’s terragenesis and another Bobbi’s spilling of the beans about Lincoln’s death, Daisy was presented with reason upon glaring reason why she’d been right to raise Bobbi alone. Spilled secrets. Loss of control. And Lincoln. They’d told Bobbi about _Lincoln._ They’d told Daisy’s little girl about one of the most painful days of her life, and they hadn’t even asked her. The fact that Bobbi was now safe and sound, contentedly reading in the back seat, did surprisingly little to quell her fury. 

Suddenly the blare of a horn from a passing car made Daisy jump to attention and swerve, cursing loudly. She realised that not only had her attention wavered, but her eyes had filled with so many tears that she could hardly see the road. She took a deep breath, blinked them away and refocused, but with Lincoln on the mind – and not to mention the passing car – she couldn’t help but recall his confession, about how he’d nearly wrapped himself and his ex around a tree. Daisy’s heart clenched in fear at the thought, and at the same time seemed to swell with the memory of the sincerity in his voice and how far she knew he’d come to make such a confession. It felt like her heart was being ripped apart. She felt like screaming. Since when had this hurt so much? 

The driver’s side window rattled, and somewhere inside the door mechanism, something snapped. The window slid down, and a rush of air slapped Daisy in the face. She pulled over, wrenching the car to a stop to find that her hands were trembling too. Slowly, she drew a deep, rattled breath, and counted it out again. 

“Mommy?” Bobbi asked, hugging her book to her chest. “Are we going to the park?”

“What?”

Daisy frowned and looked out the window. She’d pulled up next to a small park: complete with an empty half-court of basketball, children climbing and laughing and running around the playground, and a Golden Retriever frolicking in the background. It was a mural of peace that seemed startlingly unrealistic in contrast with her anguished soul.

Still, she was in no state to keep driving, so she smiled as best she could. 

“We sure are, sweetheart,” she said. “You go play for a minute and I’ll get out some things for lunch.” 

“Okay.” Bobbi-Ann nodded, then frowned when Daisy didn’t seem to be making a move. “Do you want a hug, Mommy?” 

“Thanks, sweetie, but I’m okay. I’ll be right over. Off you pop, spit spot!” 

Bobbi-Ann smiled, a broad toothy grin, and Daisy’s heart warmed a little. Then she ground her teeth together, because Jemma had always been better at the Mary Poppins impression than she had, and she was so _mad_ at Jemma right now. Mad in that way that she knew would pass, and that she knew would be needling at Jemma in this very moment, but mad all the same. Mad because her carelessness had led to Bobbi’s terragenesis and to powers, and the powers were her father’s, and her father was dead. Mad because for some reason, she couldn’t stop fixating on that today. Why did it still hurt so much? 

Daisy pounded a fist against the busted door, and it made another cracking, popping sound, and she wrestled it open with a flare of rage before the flood of tears came over her again. 

Why did she have to break everything she touched? 

Why was she so mad with Fitz and Simmons when she knew they had meant well and it wasn’t their fault? Where had her closure over Lincoln gone? Who was she kidding? She could never do this alone. Why was she always running away?

Because answering those questions felt like this. Facing her problems felt like this. Like the weight of the world crashing down on her; like sobbing in the front seat of her car facing her broken open door; like being completely unable to give a shit about anybody else who might not have wanted to see some stranger’s public breakdown. It felt like she was spiralling out of control, and all the doubts she’d ever had about raising Bobbi-Ann rushed into her head only this time, the sting of Lincoln’s absence had doubled. Whether she was smart enough, stable enough, available enough, disciplined enough – in all things, Lincoln would have balanced her out, or at least helped. The team did too, of course, but part of Daisy – part she seemed to just now be recognising – felt like that was not enough. Bobbi-Ann loved her aunties and uncles and Grandma and Grandpa, and so did Daisy, but now she loved Lincoln too, and she’d never get a chance to know him, and that was shattering. 

It had been easier when Lincoln was a ghost, Daisy realised. She’d kept her thoughts of him to herself until he’d faded, just another part of her heart broken and grown back together. Now that Bobbi-Ann knew about him it meant he was real, and he was really gone all over again, and it wasn’t fair that his daughter had never had a chance to know him. He’d never read her a bedtime story. He’d never help with her homework, or kiss her skinned-up knees, or act uncomfortably chilled out around the romantic partners she’d brought home. Daisy never thought she’d mind all that; after all, her messy patchwork family was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. But she’d also never had a chance to mourn this future with Lincoln: she’d never seen it coming before he’d died, and once she found out about Bobbi she’d poured her heart into raising her and never looked back, until Bobbi had asked: 

“Mommy, did Daddy know I was in your tummy when he died?” 

That had been breaking point. That had been grab-the-overnight-bag-and-go. Bobbi-Ann, fortunately, had known not to press, but the question had refused to leave Daisy alone. The answer, of course, was no – she hadn’t even known herself – but she couldn’t help but wonder, what if? And that’s what her tears were. All the what-ifs.

“Excuse me,” asked a gentle voice, interrupting Daisy’s turbid thoughts. 

She jumped, on alert instantly, but it was not Bobbi and it was not an enemy. From the looks of things, it was a Soccer Mom, frowning slightly in concern for her. She had soft, slightly unkempt brown hair, and casual activewear, and the expression and the tone of her voice bore no malice at all. She hesitated when Daisy did, but then carefully pushed on.

“Barbara tells me that her Mommy is sad and won’t tell her why. She asked if I could help. Is there anything I can do?” 

Soccer Mom pointed over the bonnet of the car and across the grass, to where Bobbi Ann and boy about her age were standing, waiting. Watching, which made Daisy twitch in discomfort and vulnerability. Her first instinct was to wrap Bobbi up and take her home and give her a four-hour lecture on not talking to strangers, but she took stock of her situation for a moment – face buried in her hands bawling her eyes out in a public carpark – and pressed her lips together. She wiped her eyes, and drew a deep breath. The Soccer Mom offered her a tiny pack of tissues, and she took one; feeling quite sorry for herself, but grateful to wipe the tears away all the same. 

“My name’s Beth,” Soccer Mum introduced. “Beth McCauley. Your daughter ran into my boy Lincoln, that’s how we got talking.” 

 _Lincoln._ The name hit her heart like a meat tenderiser, and Daisy wailed into the tissue. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be _shitting_ me,” she groaned, and when Beth scowled defensively, swiftly pull the tears and snot back in and wiped her face again. “Sorry. It’s just – that’s her father’s name. The universe is out to get me today, apparently.”

“I know how you feel,” Beth agreed, and lowered herself to sit on the curb by Daisy’s door. “My husband, Sam, passed away a few years ago. Cancer. Still hits me like a train sometimes. What about you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Plane crash,” Daisy said. The words came surprisingly easily – after all, they were not wrong. Not really. “Bobbi wasn’t even born yet. I didn’t- We didn’t even know - ” 

“Oh, so sudden,” Beth commiserated, catching one of Daisy’s hands and giving it a heartfelt squeeze, paying no mind to the snot or the tissue. “You poor thing. And are you alone?”

Daisy shrugged, and shook her head, folding and refolding the tissue. “I have friends – family, really. They’ve been good, but we had a fight… It’s stupid…” 

“No,” Beth assured her. “These things happen. Everybody needs a little time away from their family, especially somebody going through what you’ve been through. As painful as losing Sam was, we had a stable life and time to prepare. Younger people like yourself, and people with a sudden death in the family – I can’t imagine what that must be like.” 

“You sound like you talk to grieving widows a lot,” Daisy observed. 

“I do,” Beth said, and then explained: “I’m part of this group of parents who’ve lost their spouses. It’s part playgroup, part grief counselling, I guess. We’re actually based not too far from here. If you live around here, maybe you should check it out.”

“Maybe I will, actually,” Daisy agreed. “Is there a website or something?” 

“You can find it on the leisure centre website, or I can give you the phone number for the convenor? Rob’s great, very easy to talk to – and he’s a licensed therapist, in case of heavy stuff.” 

“You know, that actually sounds amazing. Thank you so much.” 

“It’s my pleasure.” 

“Daisy,” she filled in, surprising herself as a smile touched her lips. 

“It’s my pleasure, Daisy.”

As they exchanged details – each other’s as well as Rob’s – Daisy felt the knot in her chest begin to unfurl. By the time they were done, she felt heartened enough to get to her feet. Oddly, she felt a little like she should give the tissue back, but she tucked it into the band of her pocket-less pants instead. 

“Hey, uh,” she offered. “I promised Bobbi a picnic lunch. If you don’t mind being seen with me after all this, we’d love somebody to eat with. Does Lincoln like ham and cheese and juiceboxes?”


End file.
